


Infinity Mechanism

by nachttour, nanrea



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Multi, Reincarnation AU, Slow Burn, fun with acronyms, heavy worldbuilding, humans and trolls share a space government, pesterlogs, space paramilitary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachttour/pseuds/nachttour, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanrea/pseuds/nanrea
Summary: They say there are people who so embody their aspects that they are the mortal embodiment of the Gods. This doesn't get them much other than a one way ticket into the military, though, where they stand as the front line against chaos and disorder in the galaxy. Gamzee and Nepeta are two such children called into service, but the nature of their abilities have limited them far more than it has helped them. And when they finally get the chance to prove themselves, all hell breaks loose.And somewhere, someone is calling to the darkness to destroy it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (See the end notes of this chapter for a listing of the two SOPAC squads. :D)

**=== > Gamzee**

“You just need to relax,” Nepeta said, bouncing around him with energy he didn’t know where all she got it from. “We’re finally joining the Cohort! This is exciting!”

Gamzee groaned. “Fuck all that I even know why, kitty sis, is what’s bothering me. We been locked on this ring for long enough, fucking . . .” he trailed off, but Nepeta, having spent sweeps with his loose ass pan forgetting words, followed his thoughts true as the hunter she was.

“I know you think it’s been on purr-pose,” she sighed, shoulders dropping. “But here! How about we try role playing it out? I’ll start!” She dropped fluidly to all fours, a sly smile tipping her mouth. “The mighty huntress Nepeta stalks her prey! The clown troll suspects nothing as she stealthily sneaks up on him! Suddenly, with a mighty leap she brings down her prey!”

True to her words, she jumped on the much taller troll. Gamzee, familiar with both her antics and the power of her leaps, braced just enough that he staggered rather than fell under her compact weight. Rather than relaxing and falling into the easy banter, he glanced around nervously, noting the sudden attention of the rest of the room, fifteen pairs of eyes, both human and troll, focusing in on them in a way that made his pan itch and something dark inside rear up and want to lash back.

“And who might the ferocious hunter have caught? she asks herself,” Nepeta said, climbing over his shoulders onto the desk he was standing next to. “She tells him to introduce himself before she rips out his throat and feeds him to her kittens!”

“This is fathoms more absurd than I usually get up to acting,” he muttered, lying blatantly.

Nepeta just grinned at him gamely: wide eyed, wide smiled, and all over with the wild still in her. Like a name didn’t really matter. “The huntress tightens her claws and introduces herself first, since her prey is such a stubborn butt,” she says. “They call me Nepeta Leijon, Rogue of Heart. I was hatched on Colony Designation XZ-67, where I lived with my mom. We hunted for our food ev-purr-y day until they came and said I have to come to new hunting grounds. The ferocious-- I mean, I have been training very hard ever since, to become an even mightier huntress!” she finished up with a smile. “Now you try. Introduce yourself!”

He snorted, but shit if the sweet kitty sis hadn’t all up and gotten him to play along anyway. “I was all up and hatched on Colony Designation XZ-67. Boring as shit name for a boring as shit place.” He tried to keep his voice from dipping into an imitation of the Junior Director’s stuffy voice, continuing, “Gene-typing showed that I am a statistically perfect match to samples on hand and as such I was declared a Recurrence of the Bard of Motherfucking Rage.” Realizing his voice had pitched up closer to a shout he cleared his throat, looking away from Nepeta toward the floor. “As such my ass got inducted into this fine fighting fam we got occurring here. Being all that my aspect is hard to control and hard to prove, I am in violation of several psychic ordinances and did not get motherfucking assigned until sufficient time was spent monitoring my ass.”

“The huntress thinks the clown has left out something important,” Nepeta says quietly.

“Think not, kitty sis.” The life that he had before was like keratin left over from a molt. When the new life had come for him he stepped free of it. 

Nepeta sighed and shifted, sitting cross legged on the desk. “You--”

“Heeeeeeee~y there!”

One of the humans appeared out of nowhere, causing Gamzee to stumble back with a startled honk. Was not many that could get the drop on him -- just about all persons had a buzz to them. The twists and eddies of their feelings shimmered around them like a tactile halo. Nepeta tightened her grip, trilling in curiosity at the new arrival.

“An amazing wizard appears out of fucking nowhere! Hey.” She grinned, thrusting out a hand to them, middling enough Gamzee could not tell who she was holding it out to. “Name’s Ro-Lal, the one and only Roxy Lalonde, Rogue of Void! Man, gotta be hitting up my fellow rogue babe.”

“Oh,” Nepeta blinked rapidly, then seized the human’s hand in their weird gesture of acquaintance. “The mighty huntress is pleased to meet the amazing wizard! She asks Roxy where she’s from.”

“In the interest of continuing this role play, the wizard will answer,” Roxy said with a grin and a wink. “Born and raised on Ocenia, Mom knew I’d probably be a recurrence, since it runs in the family and so on, us being Lalondes and all.” She pulled her hand out of Nepeta’s and held it out to Gamzee, who took it and looked at it, unsure what to do with it. Her skin was soft and supple, and the scent of gun oil lingered around her. “She wasn’t a Seer or nothing, but she had some Light affinity, anyway. Wasn't surprised I was recruited at all.”

Before he could reply, Gamzee’s pan prickled as a whisper ran through the rest of the trainees. At the doorway to the training room, there was a short, nubby horned troll in an obnoxious red sweater. Gamzee felt his pump biscuit seize at the sight of those familiar horns. The feel of Roxy pulling her hand out of his to turn toward the door broke the tension. Beside him on the desk, Nepeta also stiffened.

“Kankri,” she whispered, leaning into him. “That asshole.”

Her shared enmity helped Gamzee control his own anger at the kid who had been the constant bar between them and any sort of advancement or escape since they had been brought to the training facility. The kid was barely past his first molting. Younger than Gamzee and Nepeta by three sweeps. Younger than Karkat by five.

Also, the bane of his existence for the past half sweep.

Something in his eyes, shadowed and bruised, made him seem much older than his official seven sweeps. The way his eyes flicked over Gamzee stirred something in the shadows of his pan.

“Congratulations, all of you,” the kid began stiffly, hands tucked behind his back as he held himself as tall as he could. (Not very. A source of private amusement for the training cohort.) “You have all proven yourselves of sufficient ability to join the elite ranks of the SOPAC Advanced Defense Militia. As such, it is my duty as Junior Director of the SOPAC Administrative Board to welcome you all to your first week in advanced basic training.”

Gamzee snorted, and Nepeta leaned harder into him-not quite purring, but offering conciliatory support nonetheless. Congratulations, his ass. Dude stood on proprietary so this was all rote. Any sentient being who had known the kid for any length of time would know that. His title was mostly so people would listen to him. Porrim and he were essentially glorified interns.

Roxy caught his eye, glancing edgewise and rolling her tyrian-looking eyes. Half of him wondered if the wizard sis ever got trolls being weird at her for it. The Hemospectrum was something old as hell and dated, but there were still trolls that got stilted around him back on 67. Who stared at the fill of his eyes or the hints of the veins at his wrists and got a look to them. Whispers clambered and scrambled around in their pans: _I am afraid of you. I want to do what you tell me to. You know best, don’t you?_ Weren’t words that he understood so much as it was a yearning. Shit made him uncomfortable.

Anytime anyone saw Kankri it involved a whole lot of clenched jaws and tightening shoulders. Not a soul in the training center that felt compelled to do what he said just because the words happened to tumble free from his wordflap.

“Training materials have been loaded into your personal databases. They are available at any time for your perusal.”

At this a few of the cohort pulled their tablets or watches up, flicking through information. Their faces looked like little moons, shimmering with reflected light. Maybe he and Nepeta could run through it later; but, the thought of having to slog through dry procedural outlines sounded about as appealing as three-perigee old expired grubloaf.

“I’m sure nubby and stern over here expects we have all this memorized by next wake-cycle.” Nepeta snorted, and Roxy covered her smile, feigning attentiveness. The Junior Dictator droned on, now facing them directly. The tilt of his mouth and quirk of his brow conveyed all of the disapproval that was not currently voiced.

“-your squad leaders will be assigned based on aspect-compatibility as well as other factors. Please check your materials and report to the section noted. It goes without saying that we are an institution that represents the best of the allied territories; your inclusion into the cohorts that we oversee is an honor. Do your best.” Bouncing on his heels slightly, the kid made his exit, in a hurry to be quit of the whole of them.

Conversation filled the room as everyone began to sort themselves into squads. “So looks like we’re supposed to be on the star-side training hall?” Roxy leaned half-over Nepeta’s shoulder, disregarding space to stare at her tablet. Pressing the urge rising in him to pick the human bodily up and move her, he looked at the tablet as well.

“Looks like.”

Nepeta grinned. “Lead the way squadmate.” The two of them had walked the halls so often that Gamzee felt reasonably sure he had memorized all of the stains and cracks in the paint. There were three different places where one could get into the ductwork -- not that he had. It was just an idle curiosity he may or may not have sated by testing hatches. When they were just so easy to reach it was hard for a brother not to get his tactile exploration on.

Several others broke left and headed after their group, talking among themselves. Depending on where they ended up they would fill out the rest of their training group. Six individuals in a squad, in their Cohort nineteen total, accounting for the leadership teams and extra staff.

Roxy tugged open the door to their assigned classroom and sighed. “I thought we were done with that nubby horned jerk,” she muttered to them.

Gamzee peered into the room and found himself once again frozen. Nepeta was no where near as locked in place as he was though.

“Karkat!” she near on shrieked, and pounced across the room to knock their old friend on his ass.

The troll at the end of his girl’s assertive attention sputtered, hands briefly tightening around her shoulders as he patted at her awkwardly. They spoke for a moment until Karkat registered he was there. Boy had a way of melting every heart he ever came across. Was not a troll nor human he was not pale for. Was easy to let the rasp of his voice into one’s aurals. Would curl up in one’s thoughts like he belonged there and it was difficult to oust him after.

Roxy came up at his side, squinting. “This one’s different.”

“There’s only one fuckmunch you could possibly be comparing me to.” Exhaling in exaggerated exasperation, Karkat shook Nepeta at them, glaring over the crest of her wide horns. “Do us all a favor and stop. Don’t. Just don’t. I know that double-Vantas is enough to make both oculars and aurals bleed, but keep your opinions to yourself. Everything that you could say I have already thought. At frequent intervals and with long time given to reflection.” Setting Nepeta down, Karkat glanced his way. The man looking at him now was light years away from the kid that had run around the colony with him and Nep. This was not the guy that fell off the water-tower because he was an overconfident idiot who wanted to save a nest of chirpbeasts. Karkat of the present radiated competence and subtle annoyance at the world. The squad in general seemed comfortable around him. The fervor of his earlier irritation sapped away and he offered a subtle wave. “Hey. Good to see you’re finally part of the cohort-proper.”

There was nothing else for it but to answer. The thousands of things that he could say sat unspoken and neatly locked behind his fangs. Putting on a smile had never been an issue for him and it slid into place easily enough.

“Hey. Others had some differing ideas on what the fuck I ought to be getting up to, but here we are.”  

More of their squad filtering in through the doors saved them both from awkward conversation. Some of the individuals he had talked with enough to know, the rest were sort of a wall of acquaintance-by-proximity.  Roxy haunted his left side, tapping away on a phone.

There was another troll of his same caste, with a horn and a half and who menaced the doorway something fierce. Getting absurdly tall was not something that he looked forward to when he hit his adult molts. Lazuli was a chill bro, seemed mostly inclined to sit and do some stitchcraft rather than get his chat on.

A white carapacian filtered in after, face down and focused on something on their tablet. Following them was one of the darker- tinted humans,  a hand touching the carapace’s shoulder and guiding them to the seating area. The life patch on the human’s shirt told him it was the lesser of their two Life squadmates.  Crocker was talking the hallway somewhere; she was the station’s head medical staff and a co-trainer for this squadron.

As if thinking about her had summoned her, Crocker headed in, followed by Tennez. Yellow blood had horns like knives and a sunny demeanor. Normally he saw her in admin with some of the other support staff. Most hope-aspect carrying individuals seemed to be regarded just as well as he was, so in that they had something in common.  Tennez was not playing about her inclusion into the squad; gal had tattooed her aspect over her throat in semi-luminous ink. It glimmered in low-light, following the curves of her throat. That was not something that he would ever think to broadcast.

Jane stepped to the front of the room, hip-checking Karkat and grinning at him. Distracted out of the conversation he had been engaged in over coms, he shot her a look of irritated fondness and addressed the group. The temptation to stare at every one of the shouty-brother’s micro-expressions like there was going to be a test was strong. Nepeta looped her arm through his, and he curled his fingers over her forearm in answer.

“So it looks like command finally dislodged their cranial mass out of their waste-chutes and filled out our team! Hoo-Fucking-Ray!” Karkat planted hands firmly on either side of his hips, palms tucked under the pommels of the scythes hanging off of his belt. It was weird to see someone live-carrying weapons outside of combat situations. Karkat was one known to do crazy shit though. Gesturing widely at himself and Nepeta, Karkat continued. “Makara and Leijon. Get over your initial doubts now if any of you have them. You all can meet, greet, mingle, and fall over one another after the important shit is out of the way. If any of you vacillate pitch, no blood on the floor. I don’t have time to sort your shit out.”

The smiles in the background told him all he had to know about the squad’s feelings about Karkat’s bluster. Nepeta watched their leader with amusement writ over her whole face. Jane stepped in, picking up as Karkat paused to take a breath.

“Today’s objective is to go over logistics, get to know one-another and briefly meet our other active training squad at this location.”

What followed then was a blur of a great deal of talking and planning. Between the pair of them, Karkat and Crocker went over their gear-sets, protocols, expectations and more. Gamzee’s head was spinning with information that was not immediately relevant and dense. Halfway into the briefing, Nepeta pulled out a tablet and was scrawling notes to herself. Their squad had a Prince of Mind (Lazuli), a Witch of Life (Nolan), a Mage of Light (Ardent Librarian - the carapace), a Knight of Hope (Tennez), and then himself, the wizard, kitty sis, Vantas, and Crocker. Trying to keep all of the potential for aspect interaction in his mind was a losing battle, so he stopped.

Nepeta grinned up at him. “You have that look that says you stopped paying attention half an hour ago.”

Snorting in response, Gamzee shook his head. “Ain’t no such look on my face sister.”

“I think she might be right. Even if she’s not about you, shit man that was a lot.” Roxy stretched her hands over her head, vertebrae popping. “It ain’t like it’s hard or anything, but that was a crapton of information to throw at us all at once. What are we waiting on right now?”

“Vantas mentioned that we would be meeting the leaders from the other squad.” Nolan offered. They had stationed themselves just in front of Gamzee’s group.  

“He doesn’t like being called Vantas. Prefers Karkat.” The words slipped out of him fleet like foxes. Before anyone could ask, the second squad leaders put in an appearance.

A human built like a brick shit house walked in, followed by a troll with wicked curved horns. She immediately draped herself all over the human and smirked at Crocker in open black solicitation. Crocker merely rolled her eyes and turned to the students, calling for their attention. “These are the leaders of Squad Two, John Egbert and Damara Megido. If you have issues you don’t feel comfortable bringing to me or Karkat, you may approach them first before taking it up the chain of command.”

Egbert gave kind of a jaunty wave, with Megido just smiling at them in a way that made Gamzee feel like going to her would be the last motherfucking thing he’d ever do, probably.

Karkat harrumphed and said, “Alright, get the fuck out of here. All of you. Cohort, go locate your berths and then your assigned stations. I expect you nookwiffs to be able to at least be able to tell your battlements from your waste chutes by the time we reassemble tomorrow. Dismissed.”

The four cohort leaders then filed out the door Egbert and Megido had come in through, leaving their seven students feeling a little nonplussed, the feeling of it fizzing along Gamzee’s mind like cucumber flavored soda in his nose. He twitched when Nepeta poked him in the side, and he followed her out the door.

 

**=== > Kankri**

 

Irons in the fire, irons in the fire, always it was irons in the fire with the Committee Chair. Kankri could barely restrain the anger in his stomping as he made his way up to the observation deck over the large bay housing the new Cohort’s mobilization gear. So many irons in the fire that she was too busy to attend the induction ceremony for the 1025 Training Cohort, as was her duty, and instead had to send her intern to give the speech instead.

Kankri had to fight back the swarm of memories, all the induction ceremonies, hundreds--thousands of them, going back a century to when SOPAC was founded, as they welled up in his mind. _It gets easier_ , he reminded himself. It gets easier to force the memories back as he gets older. This is just the result of regaining them all after his first molting. By the time he’s ready for his second molting, he’ll have mastered them.

He has to. He has in every other lifetime he’s lived.

He stopped three steps from the top of the stairs and had not realized until he felt the tap of hands on his shoulders. The gentle press of a palm on his cheek tilted his face up. As he focused on Porrim’s face he had to fight back the superimposition of her face, repeated so many times, old, young, happy, sad, covered in a rainbow of blood, glowing, Porrim fighting, no, Porrim--

The sharp sting of her slap helped bring him back into the present, too. “Kankri,” she said. “Wake up.”

“Ah, sorry,” he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes. “The visions, you know--”

“Not really,” she replied with a slight smile. This close her eyeliner was not a regular black, but a deeply tinted olive with shimmer. It was different than what she always wore. The brand, he could see the tube on her dressing-surface, the reflective packaging catching the light of the room-- “How was the speech?”

“Same as usual,” he answered as he finished ascending the stairs and walked the railing of the deck, peering down into the hangar bay. “Words, most of which don’t matter, and then I leave. I still can’t believe she let the Makara join a Cohort. Foolish. Why do they never heed my warnings until it’s too late?”

Porrim ignored that question. “Same as usual, huh?” she said instead. “As far as I know, that’s the only welcoming speech you’ve given in this lifetime.”

He grunted, settling into a disgraceful slouch over the railing, letting his arms dangle out into space. He’d been having this argument with his . . . whatever Porrim would turn out to be to him in this lifetime since he woke up from his first molting. It did not help that they practically pupated together this lifetime. Defining their dynamic was one of a multitude of things that he could not articulate in a way that satisfied him.

“I find it highly problematic that Director Serket has foisted supervising the new Cohort’s training initiation onto me instead of undertaking it herself, as is her duty as Committee Chair,” he said, ignoring her implied question. “As a Junior Director I have neither the authority to hear the issues and concerns the Cohort Leaders may wish to bring forward, nor do I have the clearance to take action on them. This is exactly the reason why Director Serket was to attend the Induction Ceremony herself, as there is almost always something of concern that arises at some point-”

Porrim not at all gently smacked him on the back of the head. Maybe a kind of pitch-tinted diamond? he wondered as he rubbed at the ache, glaring at her. Regardless of how he felt now his quadrants inevitably would blur. The lines of the grid would snap under their own brittle composition and all of his relations would blend into a mush of affection and irritation.

“Porrim, if you wish to gain my attention there are less violent ways to do so.”

“You’re rambling,” she said unrepentantly. “And you’re worrying too much. Why are you so concerned about Gamzee Makara anyway?”

She joined him in leaning against the railing and looking down into the bay, where the newly initiated had begun trickling out to find their work stations. The gangling form of the new Makara, joined by Lalonde the Younger and Nepeta Leijon, had also emerged and the group was making its way across the bay. He tried not to shudder as Makara’s painted face turned briefly up to where Kankri and Porrim stood watching. Both Makaras had always been overly aware of others, able to move too fast and with unnatural silence.

“Because,” he said, tracking Gamzee as he turned at Nepeta’s urging to continue across the bay, “Makaras are always dangerous.”

Images splayed against the back of his mind, blood bright red splashed in vivid patterns along a grey mottled wall, mingling with colors of other hues, a laugh closer to a whisper in pitch than any sort of expression of joy, purple eyes glowing as an arm drew back--

“Kankri,” Porrim said, pinching his cheek.

“Sorry?” He popped back into the present, disoriented. He hadn’t realized he’d grabbed the railing at some point. Unhooking his fingers from the railing he shook his hands out to banish the discomfort that clenching had caused. He blinked up at her owlishly, aware that she had been speaking while he was lost. “I missed that.”

She sighed, shoulders rolling forward as she fiddled with one of the long necklaces gracing her neck. “Sometimes I miss the way you were before you molted,” she said.

He had the feeling that was not at all what she had previously been discussing.

“Sure, you never shut up and you had your head shoved so far up your waste chute you were practically standing straight again, and you ignored half of what I was saying at any given time, but at least you were actually in the same room with me instead of drifting off into space every fifteen minutes.” Snapping her fangs together with an audible click, she stared purposefully down at the staff milling around.

Kankri felt his ears burning, though he wasn’t sure if it was shame or anger that was making his face flush. “I told you, it’s a manifestation of my Aspect as Seer of Blood, I’m remembering past lives, not-- not ignoring you, it-- it’s not something I can control entirely at this point-- you--” Her fingers landed on his mouth and it was not actively a shoosh nor a pap. She was close enough that he could see her eyeliner was slightly askew on the right side. It made sense, she was left-frond dominant. The carefully manicured shapes of her eyebrows drew in.

“I wonder if it is just stress and having crazy upper-staff that is doing that to you, rather than any sort of ‘manifestations’. Either that or you are having a lovely joke at all of our expenses. If it is the former, cut the shit. If it is the later, you ought to go and see Healer Crocker.”

Exhaling audibly, he fixed her with his best sardonic stare until her fingers moved away from his mouth. “Am I allowed to speak now, Miss Maryam?” Overly formal and dripping sarcasm into his formal grammar he awaited her reply. Everything about old-empire troll culture irritated Porrim. Before she could give him a proper answer and release him from the silence she had theoretically imposed with an implied shoosh, their com-units went off in unison.

“And the Marquise calls.” Rolling her eyes, Porrim hit the response code indicating to their staff that they were en-route.

“We can only hope that it is not for another advanced-tactics and weaponry version of hide and seek.” Steeling himself for the long walk down the hall, Kankri followed Porrim toward the command central offices.

*  

**=== > Meenah**

The place they were keeping them was dark, and humid, and stank like shitty soda spilled and left to congeal: sickly sweet and rank. Meenah wished she’d taken a better glubbing look at that assistance-desired ad before answering it.

This situation was like the stupid plot of one of those shitty human thriller movies her old hivemate had been obsessed with: answer an innocent seeming ad only to get your dumb self grubknapped and thrown in a torture cell with ten other dumbfucks to cull before the weird fucker in the mask lets you go. Probably have to saw her own frond off before the ordeal came to a close. Funds had not been so tight as to justify this level of bullcarp. At the time she had thought so, but past-her was a guppy-panned idiot.

There were only three others that had answered the same ad, and she hadn’t put a bulb to them from the time that all four of them were brought to wherever they were now. Was not much of a space to put eyes to, ceilings tall enough to accommodate adult-trolls and doors that were reinforced against claws and highbloods. It had taken a broken knuckle for her to learn about the second thing.  

It was not the kind of work she was accustomed to doing. She had dabbled in everything, entrepreneurial work, bodyguard work, mercenary, even a short stint in retail before she forked a fool in the throat. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

Instead of killing the singular human in the compound, she had been tasked with keeping the male alive. The creepy-ass guy with the curving horns and the voice that sounded like a strange marriage between over-tightened screws turning in wood and cicada wings had informed her that she was the thief and there was _‘mad fucking thievery to be done_ ’. ‘ _Thief of Life_ ,’ that creepy bastard had called her. ‘ _You wanna be keeping those motherfucking horns attached to your motherfucking skull, you’d best be keeping his life close to your hands_.’

Meenah had never put much stock in the whole Aspect of Creation thing, and had spent every day since reaching her second molting avoiding SOPAC recruiters. However, with the threat of tall, dark, and stabby looming over her and no clear venues of escape she had set to the task with all of the ability she could muster. It was not glubbing much.

The guy that she had been charged with keeping was absent. He had been missing when she woke. His rest-platform and the pile of bedding were askew. Every time they came for him he fought, and every time it was just as pointless as the last.

Meenah sighed and shifted uncomfortably, picking at the damp cloth she had wrapped around her flank to keep her operculum moist and stationary. Fuckers had taken a bat to her when she had declined to come quietly. A lucky shot to her ribs had managed to tear it, exposing the lamella below. The burn of air where it had not belonged lingered in the back of her throat and the cracking sound of the bones lingered in her aurals. If she let it gape, the tall guy would be the least of her concerns. Her gills would get infected, it would translate into a respiratory infection, and then it would be slow death on the floor drowning in her own fluids.

The part of the compound she was held in lacked a decent ablution block: it was just a sink and a load gapper and sponge baths and damp towels. Was no way to keep any kind of fish troll. The only saving grace was the humidity. The air was not so dry as to have her hacking every other breath.

Last she had seen him the human they wanted her to keep alive looked about as good as she did. She didn’t have any kind of idea on how to keep the kid alive; but she needed him to be or she’d be dead. The fuckers were pretty glubbing clear about that.

Whatever it was they were doing to him it went beyond any definition of harshwhimsy she’d ever heard. There had been a few, there was a whole cadre of chucklefucks back home that she’d run with.

After taking him away for a few hours, he was dumped on his cot for her to clean up. At times he was more coherent than others and he scrabbled up enough to get his back against the wall. Other times he looked like rigging fallen in the water: a knot of limbs. Bleeding from the nose and sometimes ears, caked in sweat and dark circles under his eyes, the knuckles of his hands split and bleeding, more times than not he’d still try to fight her off. Even though all she was doing was rubbing the blood off his face, Ol’ Blondie clearly had a thing about physical contact. She didn’t blame him all things considered.

It was weird, though, how quick this had settled into a routine. They would take and return him. After swabbing his face off either silence punctuated by bubbling breath would fall, or she would talk. Mostly small things - where she had grown up, things that she would eat when she got the fuck out of this hole, how much she wanted and needed to swim in the ocean, any ocean at all. He seemed to perk up, actually, when she talked about the ocean. She ended up talking about the ocean a lot.

She couldn’t tell how long she’d been here, and the human had been here even longer than she had. She’d asked him, a couple times, not just about how much time had passed but about all the things; who the fuck were these people, why were they keeping them captive, what they did to him when they took him away, what his name was. Nothing. Kid wouldn’t even let himself groan in pain. She was starting to wonder if he could even talk.

She needed him to live. So she did her best, even though she didn’t know what it was she was even supposed to do here.

So now she was waiting, again, for them to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squad 1: 
> 
>  
> 
> Leader: Karkat Vantas (Knight of Blood) - troll (m)  
> Cotrainer: Jane Crocker (Maid of Life) - human (f)  
> Gamzee Makara (Bard of Rage) - troll (m)  
> Nepeta Leijon (Rogue of Heart) - troll (f)  
> Roxy Lalonde ( Rogue of Void) - human (f)  
> Corrin Lazuli (Prince of Mind) - troll (m) - indigo  
> Abe Nolan (Witch of Life) - human (amab nb)  
> Ardent Librarian (Mage of Light) - carapace (nb)  
> Seskie Tennez (Knight of Hope) - troll (f) - yellow
> 
>  
> 
> Squad 2: 
> 
> Leader- John Egbert (Heir of Breath) - human (m)  
> Cotrainer - Damara Megido (Witch of Time) - troll (f)  
> Smitten Seamster (Sylph of Space) - carapace (nb)  
> Latula Pyrope (Knight of Mind) - troll (f)  
> Mordant Misocapnist (Seer of Rage) - carapace (nb)  
> Wilhelm Schrimmer (Page of Time) - human (nb)  
> Mituna Captor (Heir of Doom) - troll (m)  
> Emma Baal (Maid of Heart) - human (f)  
> Omar Collson (Knight of Hope) - Human (m)  
> Siddon Telnia (Mage of Blood) - troll (nb) - rust


	2. Chapter 2

**=== > Gamzee**

“Hangar is now prepped for launch. Please board your fighters and standby for final clearance,” the mellow voice of Flight Command echoed through the vaulted hangar, where Gamzee and the rest of the trainees were gathering, their mechs already lined up and ready for take off while Karkat and Egbert ran down a list of final instructions before their first live training run.

“Let me see if I have my understanding of this on correctlike. In situations of mass civilian contact we gotta stay out of the armor and concentrate on de-escalating unless the threat of loss of life is so high that it overrides individuals who are too fucking stupid to get out of the way?”

“He can be taught.” Karkat threw his arms in the air in a gesture of mocking praise. Who it was that he thought he was reaching for, Gamzee was not sure. Theoretically they were the will of gods-incarnate.  Chuffed, he took final stock of his modus for the upcoming engagement: three days of live flying and handling baby assignments for little wigglers and a brief peek into the life of a mech pilot.  It had been rounds and rounds of training and he was ready to get out there and get his bony ass to work.

Nepeta brushed along one side of him, similar to purr-momma and her casual hellos. “Even if you stare at it, it’s stocked right. We went over it yesterday.”

“Just don’t want to fuck it up girl. ‘S all.” The ache along his spinal plates had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation.

“You won’t.” Nepeta faced away from him as she made her assertion, casual as the truth was. Sneaking a hand down she squeezed his. Recognizing the seeking for what it was, he slotted his fingers through hers.

“You thinking that you ain’t gonna measure up?” he asked. “Cuz I know for a fact you are the fastest. And the most savage.” The very thought that she might not have it in her to do her job was so foreign to him that he could not grok it. Out of the two of them she had always been the one that made the right moves, had talked to the right folks.

“Being the fastest isn’t always what’s needed.” Releasing him, she beamed up at him. “But we practiced lots. We’ll do this right.”  Nepeta’s attention fixed on the approaching form of Roxy, and her face transformed into a brighter smile yet.

“HEY FAM!” Slinging an arm around Nepeta and then his waist, Roxy grinned at the pair of them. She was unfailingly too-casual with everyone that she met and that fact made her easier to accept. Most others would not get away with looping arms around him like that.  “So now that we’re like, completely crammed full of rules and ordinances are you ready to forget all of it and get in trouble?!” Grinning through her teeth at them, Roxy put voice to their unspoken fear.

Nepeta groaned. “No! I just got done telling Gamzee. We practiced. We practiced SO MUCH. We’re going to do good!”

“Nepeta’s right. We practiced SO FUCKING MUCH that if you fuck up at this point you might as well just stage a hangar accident and get yourself benched. Don’t test my ephemeral faith in the abilities of others,” Karkat chimed in, attention returning from reading orders on his handheld.

Nepeta hip-checked him hard enough that he ought to have moved. Karkat simply raised an eyebrow and snorted at her. Boy had grown dense like the planets forged in the harsh cold of space and solid like iron. Was not much that could move him now that he did not personally allow. Used to be that Nepeta could lift him over her head and took great pleasure in doing so. Shit was hilarious in the way that religion was theoretically explained to be and he missed the sight of it. Laughing so hard that he leaked from the oculars and curled at the middle had been the closest to god he had ever felt.  

“Alright, get in your damn mechs,” Karkat huffed. With a poorly coordinated salute, his training squad about faced and marched to their stations.

On his way to his, one of the hangar staff touched Gamzee’s elbow, stopping him on his way. “Everything good, Makara?” Brother was short and pale as moonlight, not necessarily threatening. His mind though, it buzzed like some sort of vegetative growth full of stinging nettles. The hostility unwarranted was a thing he had run into enough times on the base that he was starting to become accustomed to its presence.

“Yeah. You figure you know some reason why it wouldn’t be?” Gamzee knew what would come next almost like he was some sort of a seer instead of a bard.

“Don’t know. Guess that depends on you, really.” The human stepped closer, the fur covering his eyes curling outward some from his face and catching the light. It caught Gamzee’s attention more handily than the threat he was trying to impart. The finger touching his ribs did the trick though, and summoned a growl from the center of him. Curling his fingers into fists instead of hooking them to fight, he stared at the little pink fuck. One thing was true about him that also held about the legends of the person he was supposed to be - when the anger took him it was hard to think of much else. Really there was not much else worth thinking on.  “-Vantas is the best fucking squad leader we have. This whole team is amazing. We don’t need people like _you_ fucking things up. So keep your sniffbulb clean.”

“Mother. Fucking. Noted.”  Stepping backward from the hangar staff and getting around him, Gamzee continued to his station for pre-ops check. Everything that his fronds came to land on felt slightly foreign, as if someone else was touching the equipment.

The advice from the culling center circled round in his head like flies. _Breathe_. A motherfucker had to breathe otherwise there would be nothing but the rush of blood in his temples and the temptation to hook his claws into flesh. No one at the Crocker Center had believed there was such a thing as ‘highblooded rages’. Maybe it had something to do with the lot of them being star-monkeys with a handful of other species sprinkled into the mix of staff. They said that there were adrenal and hormonal cues that one had to manage on their own. Gamzee certainly was not some screaming, shitting pupa with no impulse control.

Someone worked to his right, methodically sliding their claws through their sylladex. Tennez’s horns jutted into his periphery. “It never stops,” she said, almost noncommittally.

“What doesn’t?” Ignoring everything had been the way of things for so long that Gamzee initially did not understand what she meant.

“Don’t tell me you don’t notice? When people treat you like that -- like you are some sort of wild naturae or someone that has ill intent woven under through every single thought you’ve had?”

Leaning against his station Gamzee regarded his teammate who was methodically packing everything into her sylladex again, organizing everything that she had touched. Her background in administration shone through in every one of her movements: check, double check, organize,and then on to the next thing. “Seems to be the way of things with folk. When you belong to a certain lot that is where you belong. Might as well accept that quicklike and laugh it off.” Studying his claws he picked at a couple of flecks of paint.

“I just don’t know that I want to laugh at the idiocy of others.” Huffing, Tennez straightened herself up. “Instead I would like to think and believe that they can be better.” The smile that he had heard rumors about blossomed across her face like some sort of subtle moonrise. Just listening to the warm tones of her voice and putting a bulb to her smile was enough to lift his lethargy some. It was a feat.

“Seems like you are challenging the world, putting this on display.” Gamzee stroked a finger along his throat.

Beaming at him, her smile stretched into a pointed grin. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. It’s their problem if they have one, not mine. I’m a knight. Got things to protect, not to shatter.” She indulged him in accepting the fist-bump he offered.

Gamzee stepped away from the station, gear in hand. Using the calm that Tennez had given him, he ambled over to his mech, letting his loose limbed gait be a big Fuck You to anyone in there who wanted him to fail.

===>

“Welcome to the inter-squad skill check. I am John Egbert and on the com with me is the lovely and talented Damara Medigo!”

“Talented and lovely enough to make you fall on your knees in front of me.”

“So hawt Damz~ “

“Tuna this is not an open channel babe. Shoosh.”

“Ooooh shooshing at me when everyone can hear it...” Gamzee snorted at the interplay between the members of the other squad, Pyrope and Captor. They were famous for being absurdly good at computers and sucking each other’s faces. Beyond those observations he did not have much of a conception of either of them.

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING PROTEIN CHUTES. The longer we sit here self-pailing and papping over coms, the longer it is going to take to get this crap done and troubleshoot everything that inevitably will go wrong and all of the holes that have worked themselves into our training methods with the brilliant combination of _EGBERT AND MYSELF AS TRAINERS. WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS AGA-”_

“And thanks so much Karkat!” John’s voice came in, cutting out the irritation scrape of Karkat’s voice. His signal took priority and overrode Karkat.  “But for real, quiet channel and listen up! We have things to do today!” The group fell still as John dispensed the plan for their practice. Supplies and training materials lit up on their screens. Beacons and objectives shone in space, implying stranded ships that they would encounter. This part of the job was ancillary to their roles in populated areas. Most of the time this sort of assistance was rendered by patrol and other public-sector groups that served the various territories they traveled through. However, it had been someone’s great idea that SOPAC staff would intercede on the behalf of beleaguered individuals if assistance was required in the moment.  

All of the prep that he, Nepeta, and Roxy had done over the last week became applicable. The two squads moved between each other like a dance. Rules were simple to memorize and easy enough to follow. If one thing happened, then the natural progression of the next step flowed into it.

Shit was as smooth as sopor and almost as soothing.

They were two days out and the next system over when the shit hit the fan. Gamzee’s concentration snapped out of the flow as their screens locked into a communication-override.

Director Serket stared through the screen and at them, blue-tinted lips curved upward into a mocking smirk. “Playtime is over my sweet little chess pieces, grubs, and babies! Something real and befitting the skill of all of you oh so carefully trained and lovingly selected individuals had occurred!”  Clapping gloved hands together, the lights gleaming along her metallic forearm on the right, she flashed fangs at them in an expression of feral delight.  “Information is coming over to you now. Both squads redirect to Tenus Prime for staging. Priority One.”

A chat-window popped up on his display, out of the way of his navigational settings.

TG: something about that name pings familiar

TG: cnat relaly remember tho

TG: its all sorts of madimportant

AC: :33 < it's a shipyard

AC: :33 < a boy that i talked to a lot when we were younger was training to go there

AC: :33 < it is where all of the engin33ring kids really really want to go

TC: DoN't HaVe AnY sOrT oF cOnCePtIoN oF sHiT lIkE tHaT tHo

TC: SpAcE n ShIt LiKe ThAt AiN't GoT nAuGhT tO dO wItH mE

TC: SpIdEr SiS iS fUcKiNg SpIcY aBoUt It

TC: probably wants to see blood

TC: HoNk

AC: :33 < enough of that. shoosh

AC: :33 < we're gonna be just fine.

AC: :33 < let's just hustle and s33 what happens when we get there.

TC: FiNaLlY gEt To GeT yOuR hUnT oN hUh SiS?

AC: :33 < :DD

“God DAMN IT, Serket!” Karkat practically howled over the comm. “What part of ‘ROUTINE TRAINING MISSION’ got lost on its way through your pan? These are fucking virgin noobs, and you want to send them on a mission full of unknowns?”

“I have to admit, this doesn’t seem like a good idea, Director,” John broke in, sounding much more polite than Karkat was managing.

“Sorry, boys,” Serket said, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re the nearest unit that’s already fully scrambled! We’ll be sending in a more experienced team as soon as it can be assembled, of course, but we need you on the ground as soon as possible.”

In another corner of his console, a third window popped open, displaying the information Serket had sent to them. It meant jack shit all to Gamzee, but he could hear several different surprised gasps over the comms.

Damara made a nasty hiss. “This is like the space time continuum taking one up the ass without lube,” she said.

“Grooooooooss, Megido, thank you for that summary,” Serket said. “So now you can see why I need whoever I can get on this mission pronto! Don’t fuck it up! Serket out.”

With that, her line winked out. In the other corner, Roxy’s pink text spilled out in an avalanche, also mostly incomprehensible.

TG: wwo holy siht

TG: like fuckin

TG: just damn you guys dman

TG: no like if this is real this is fucking amazing this is like something being pulled from the void of the n othign into eixstance like

TG: teh liminal spaces between universes is breached and an object sent through like this is not a thing that fucking happens wow

TG: these readigns shouldnt even be registriign waaaht hte helllll

AC: :33 < roxy why’s it so weird?

AC: :33 < i don’t get it

TC: mUsT bE sOmE wIcKeD mOtHeRfUcKiNg ScIeNcE bUlLsHiT tO bE gEtTiNg EvErYbOdY aLl Up AnD bOtHeReD

TG: it shoudlnt be science at all it makes no fuckign sense thats the thing

TG: like literalyl impossible

Gamzee took another look at the lines of gibberish sliding up his HUD. Made not a lick of sense, but he could feel the alarm from those who could read it sizzling under the bottom of his brain lobes like frying boot leather, smoky and burnt and acid.

Karkat and Damara were arguing vehemently over the comms by the time Gamzee was able to tune out the psychic static.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT BUG SERKIT GOT STUCK UP HER WASTE SHOOT, THIS IS THE STUPIDEST FUCKING THING I’VE EVER HEARD THAT PSYCHO SUGGEST.” Karkat had disregarded all volume control.

Damara had been reduced to shouting in some dialect of Alternian Gamzee had never heard, but the invective and crudely sexual suggestions she was saying hissed through Gamzee’s pan, regardless, and the intake of breath from a couple of unidentifiable trolls over the comm made him think it was a particularly creative suggestion.

“Uh, Karkat, not that I don’t also think this is a bad idea, but Vriska and Damara are right, this is serious business,” Crocker interrupted. “Not that I can really understand the finer details of what is occurring, but overall the data suggests that something has emerged into space-time from nothing.”

“That sounds like absolute hoofbeast shit and you know it, Crocker,” Karkat said. “Shit doesn’t just appear out of nothing, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s what makes this such a serious issue,” she replied. “If these readings are indeed correct, then we are witnessing the impossible, and we must investigate and intercede, if necessary, to assess the threat and contain the damage. Even despite our squads’ overall lack of qualifications and training.” She waited a beat for the information to sink in, then continued, “It is our duty to the people, even before it is a duty to SOPAC or Serkit.”

An appeal to duty. Crocker really knew how to work him over. Gamzee started to reassess whether they were actually pale for each other, after all.

A long, gusty sigh, and then Karkat conceded. “Alright, FINE. Set course for Tenus Prime, so we can stop the apocalypse or whatever.”

As they adjusted course for one of the inner planets of the system, Gamzee couldn’t stop feeling the itch along the top of his pan, sinking into the cracks of his brain, like a tug on his synapses.

Like someone was calling.

 

**=== > Kankri**

 

Well this would be the first real test of how much of a clusterfuck this Cohort would be. Watching Vriska lean against her desk and purr at the screen as she dispatched Squads 1 and 2, he pushed his claws into the meat of his palms. This was not Halocentrus Minor. This was not New Alternia. This was not the Bzghet Riots. Time snarled around in his head, a riot of events and sensations.

 “-for someone that loves to talk as much as you do, Vantas, you sure suck at listening.”

Drawing himself up straight, Kankri sniffed in the Director Serket’s direction. “If you were saying something worth listening to, I might be inclined. But of course I must render apologies. It was not my intention to belittle you or to make you feel disrespected.”

Vriska rolled her eyes, exaggerating the motion. “I’m not sure what it would take to belittle me, _Kankri-” god he hated it when she said his name like that “_ \- but you are not the thing that would. Where’s Maryam?”

Before he could ask which one, she was walking through the door. Kanaya stared Vriska down, space around her fluxing in response to her irritation. The light behind her eyes ebbed and shimmered in response to her pulse. “And what precisely did you think you were doing when you sent them, Vriska?” The precise edges of Kanaya’s words could cut through metal. Kankri found himself squaring his shoulders out and brought his chin up, feeling his mother’s scrutiny bearing down on him and starting to crumble under the weight of it. Of the two of them, Kanaya always reminded him more of the Dolorosa. She was the spiritual successor to all of that strength of will and imperiousness.

“That maybe, I dunno, it was kind of fucking important that we get feet on the ground before it turns into a shitshow? That maybe we make sure that buildings don’t collapse because of the reality-flux from the thing’s arrival? And, oh damn I remember!  I was also thinking that we really, reeeeeeeeally need to know what it is.”

Kankri looked between them, baleful and not bothering to school his expression. “Statistically speaking, it is most likely something that is exo-dimensional and has broken through to our side. The most likely possibilities are a rogue space user, a temporality tear from two timelines converging, or the forceful inclusion of extra dimensional elements into our plane of existence. Given its location and our current intelligence on the object, it is impossible to make a determination. It is possible it is a summoned object -  there is historical precedent of just that happening. If that is the case it is doubly important that we get the object - whatever it might be - thoroughly contained. Also we need to very judiciously study who it is that has caused this level of havok in a public sector. I find it highly unlikely that this was a natural event.” He wondered if Vriska’s eyes ever suffered strain from the amount of rolling they did. It was something that got better with time -- and he was lucky she was in her middle phase of life. She only got better as she aged, if she managed to make it that far.

“Crab-bite, I know that you have pet theories about anomalous events, but the universe is big and full of individuals who have no business being able to affect it in the ways that they do. Not everything that happens in space is the result of some made up boogeyman that the reps of the Pantheon dream up.” She capped off this grand dismissal with a wave of her arm and turned away.

She was so ignorant that he wanted to do some form of violence against her, to his shame. It never ended well when he gave into the urge, so instead, blocking with some difficulty a mosaic of memories of past frustrated arguments, he took a slow breath in, savoring the burn in his lungs as he held it.

He attempted to give some consideration to Vriska’s statement. Technically he was Signlessist, if one were to really aim for semantics. However, while SOPAC officially held to no religious institutions, unofficially it aligned with the beliefs of The Pantheon of the Reborn Gods which holds that the Twelve Cardinal Aspects of Divinity were continually born in mortal form, and all sentient beings aligned to a Cardinal Aspect  and bound to a Cardinal Class. The Signlessist faith built on this by stating that all souls were bound to a cycle of reincarnation. Of course, one came to the dichotomy of belief versus fact when one could recall his past lives, and the whole institution of his cult’s beliefs came into question as it related to his ability to believe them too. If one knew the truth as fact and had experienced it, it was not really belief at that point. Semantics were his favorite though - words used as precise cutting tools, much more elegant than claws.

They also were a lovely derailing tactic.

“I would ask you to retract your statement, Director,” he said. “Or at very least preface such discussions with proper warnings.” Slitting his eyes, he could see hers start another orbit around their sockets.

“Now is not the time.” Kanaya stepped physically between them, inverting to the position of middle leaf. “Because we are sending a herd of untested individuals into my sector, into a very vital economic hub, and because I tire of the grating tones of both of your voices.”

“I sent the good ones though. Best bunch of noobs we’ve had in sweeps.” Vriska folded her arms, balancing against one of the tabletops. “Think of this also as a bit of a pre-culling. If there are any problem children, they are going to show themselves now. And we’ll get them out of there and have a stronger team for it. Also if there are any of them that are going to go nova and freak the fuck out on us, I want to know now, rather than later.”

Kanaya’s expression was that of an apex predator, her stillness like something no longer of the world that he and Vriska resided in. Rainbow drinkers were like that, familiarity with her stance echoing through his memories in a distracting fractal of past impressions.

“This is neither the place nor the time to learn such things. And I believe that we already know what the problem is. We should do the same thing that we did with the Ampora wiggler and deal with it now.” Her voice was cold, precise.

“But you see, you all keep saying you want to do that to me too. And look, I’m so _incredibly useful!”_ Vriska purred at her, tapping her claws along the seam of the plating on her arm. “There’s a 50/50 with the Makara kid. I’m going to call a psycho a psycho and stop beating around the bushes here. Those odds suck, but they’re also pretty strategically workable. If he fucks up, we kill him and flip the coin again. Otherwise, we’ve got a bard on our hands with resting potential that has not been seen in over a generation. I’m the boss and I say he stays, and we see what he can do.”

“And you pointedly ignore all of the evidence that I have laid out for you,”  Kankri growled through gritted teeth. “The whole problem with bards is that they are by their nature unpredictable. Even with the type of odds we are looking at, he will -always- go for the wrong choice.”

Kanaya sliced a hand through the air, shaking her head firmly. “Enough. We have heard what you have to say on the matter and will give it consideration. For now we must deal with the effects of the Director’s decisions and begin stopgap measures. Your continual insistence that every instance of a recurrence is predetermined to follow the footsteps of the originals is both misguided and bordering on the superstitious.”

Swallowing his words at the hypocrisy of the Committee Member, Kankri shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the curl of his fists. Eventually she would come around and see. She always did.

He jumped as hands degrees cooler than his own smoothed over the cable-taut slope of his shoulders. Porrim dug the pads of her thumbs carefully into his skin, the sharp tips of her claws snagging in the knit material of his sweater. “Rose is on her way right now. She just docked,” Porrim said.

At that Kanaya smiled and Vriska’s jaw twitched as she tightened her mouth into a grimace. “Oh great, that is what we need, another pompous word-factory,” Vriska grumbled, staring edgewise at Porrim.

“No one asked you for your opinion, Director.” Kanaya’s serene tone stood in contrast to all of the tension in the room. “Now, pull up the maps. We need to begin staging plans.”

As the two of them began walking through the projected dimensional display and talking, Porrim watched him. Tiny star annotations shimmered against her face and body.

“On a scale of one to murder, how tense are we?” Tempering the question with a smile, she murmured to avoid disturbing Kanaya and Vriska.  

“Four.” Vriska Serket always did things like this -- crashing through any sort of decorum or precedent like a wild creature. It was always Maryam that put things back together with the generous support and meddling of Miss Lalonde. They were a fearful pair, that set of matesprits. Anything that Kanaya could not argue Vriska out of, Rose could manipulate her into. It was his vain hope that he might inspire her to care as much as he did about the Makara issue. Of all of the women who habitually sit at the top of the Committee, she was one that most often understood the depth and breadth of his vision.

Kankri sighed and pulled away from Porrim’s gentle hold. “Kanaya’s irritated because this is going down in her sector and as always, the Director is doing as she likes,” he stated. “Miss Maryam takes exception. They are also going to be staging close to one of the trade-hubs and disruption of things in that area will have consequences.”

“Trade hubs are vulnerable.” Staring into the illuminated field of the star maps, Porrim fiddled with the lip-ring neatly threaded through her bottom lip. The soft clink of her fangs on metal distracted him from the irritation of having to speak to Vriska. “I wonder why that one in particular?”

“It’s random.” Kankri shrugged and leaned against one of the walls. “I have no data for you concerning that particular place or that timing as it coincides with our current crisis. All of our active recurrences are far away from it with the exception of one of the Zahhaks and a Strider. But they're stationed at the shipyard, not on-world.”

Porrim paced the edge of the mapped territory, staring into the mass of light and shadow. “There are only two other worlds of note there, Tenus Prime and Tenus Minor. And the stuff we are getting is space-disruption. Do you recall anything of a similar calibre happening in that system?”

Letting his head dip back against the wall, Kankri tried to remember. All that he brought to mind was death. Death, and Maryams, and Harleys, with the occasional Captor threaded through his memories.The disturbingly bright eyes of a horde of Striders staring up at him from a dim room also came back with ease. When he spoke it was a low murmur, both for his own benefit and that of their superiors engaged in their own conversation.  “Mmm...Tenus Minor is where the colony of Breath Carapaces went to when the Prospitian schism happened.”

“Wasn’t that the one that got sparked by the assassination on Halocentrus?” Porrim sidled alongside Kankri, scrolling through databases on a handy tablet.

Answering her with a brief nod he went back into his litany. “It... is the place that the cloning colony first began operation. Where I met the first survivors from the Strider Corps. Where they took Mituna two lifetimes ago, trying to make him a living star.”  None of this had anything to do with a disruption in the fabric of space-time. “I don’t suppose you can think of anything brilliant to change the trajectory of our problem?”

“I was always better with personal and physical spaces. You know that better than anyone.” Porrim sniffed and stifled a smile. “If anyone has the pan for history it is you.”

“Certainly I think you do better in the social arenas than most.” The trail of tears and crushes that she had left in her wake was fearsome. It had been a class’s worth of work just to fend off the questions of those individuals that had hoped he had more of Porrim’s favor than they did.

Vriska turned toward them and Kankri pushed off of the wall, standing with the impeccable posture he normally favored. “You’ve decided what you want us to do?”

“So incredibly intuitive! Sometimes I remember why it is that I keep you around in the first place!” Director Serket walked to them, gesturing to the map as she did and re-orienting star points. A few enlarged at her gestures, others retreated and dimmed. “I think that I want in on this after all. Something’s weird and such things are best addressed in person! I’m heading out to Tenus to inspect things personally.”

Half of the room visibly restrained themselves from slapping a hand to their face in frustration. Kanaya failed, Porrim bit the inside of her cheek, and he clenched a fist to one side of his hip. “Director I think that is a patently terrible plan. You are in the position that you are for a reason. As you so often and gleefully like to remind us, _no one can do what you do._ You also have several codes that none of us have access to. _And you have a meeting that is of utmost importance next week._ ” Surely she had not willfully forgotten her meeting with the current Mistress of Worship for the Pantheon. As the representative of one of the largest organized religion in their galactic territories, it was important that SOPAC keep a good relationship with her and by extension her office.

“You can handle that, Vantas! Everyone knows that you’ve had a wiggly for my job for basically all of your life. Just kind of fill in paperwork for me and do the stuff you can and if it comes to something that absolutely positively haaaaaaaas to have my signature on it, I’ll make it happen!” Beaming at him and Porrim, she thrummed. “I just have a sense about this. I want to get my eye on it and make sure.”

There would be not talking her out of this. Nursing an emergent migraine Kankri made his way out of the briefing room to begin preparations to receive Rose.

 

**=== > Meenah**

Ship was going down. Going down in such a way that the tempo of the place had changed to some sort of gale. Voices and laughter passed up and down the halls outside of her cell -- distorting as the speakers passed away and echoing as they got closer. The sweet-organic smell of her cellmate’s blood still hung around like some sort of disgusting perfume and no one had been by to pick up the pile of towels that they periodically took and returned to clean up the mess.

Those passing by were glubbing loud though, and Meenah started to get an understanding of exactly what was occurring from those snatches of conversation.

“-it’s a good sign.”

“Fuckin right it’s a righteous n’ wicked Providence. Been waiting on something like this since the forming of this heretic place-”

“We shouldn’t talk around the prisoners.”

“Heh.”

“One ‘f ‘em’s near mute anyway? Why does it matter? Not like they got someone to get their chatter on to.”

Pressing her back against the bars, Meenah banged against them -- the alloy was strong enough that it did not so much as rattle when she kicked against it. The group ignored her as they passed by and she hissed her frustration at it. 

===>

When they threw the human back into the cell this time it was even worse than usual. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, it almost seemed like she was looking at some pile of shadows, or shards of a boy. “Worked you over real good didn’t they?”

Laying on his back, the dude breathed in bubbling gasps. His hands pawed around at his ragged bedding before curling around sharp edged sun glasses she rarely saw him wear, but instead kept hidden in the sheets. Looked a lot like a guppy who had gotten the wrong mix of air and water and was paying the price for it. 

Once he found his weird shades, though, he relaxed and Meenah finally felt like she could get near him without him taking a swing at her. At some point between his getting dumped off and finding his shades, the towel pile had been replenished. Meenah got one damp and carefully started her approach. 

Despite her waiting he still was pretty riled up. He threw a punch at her and it connected against her shoulder. “Whoah dude, cut that shit right out. It’s me. It’s Meenah. No need to be getting aggro,” she hissed, but didn't make any move to stop him other than leaning away.

She’d learned the hard way that striking back or restraining him only made him worse.

The human calmed a bit, still panting and his orange eyes unfocused and unsettling with fever brightness. Stray hairs stuck to the blood drying on his face. One eye had filled in red like a coldblooded troll’s when they were in the throes of a fight-response.  

“They...did it.”

Unsure if she had actually heard words come out of the boy’s mouth, Meenah stared at him. “Come again?”

“They did it.” His voice was a low, grating rasp. His eyes met hers, briefly, desperate, his free hand grasping at hers. “They did it.”

Whatever they had done was going to remain a grubfucking mystery, though, when his eyes rolled back and he went limp, collapsing back into his sweaty and reeking sheets.

The dude passed out on her. Curving her claws into the towel she held Meenah tore it in half.

Well, she thought, at least cleaning him up will be easier.


	3. Chapter 3

**=== > Gamzee**

The stabilizing motors in the joinery of his suit hummed. They would never get hot enough to burn, but he could feel their warmth pressed against the outside of his elbows and butting up against his hips. Screens glittered around him, pertinent information displayed in the middle of his vision, less vital statistics dimmed and closer to the periphery. Rolling his hands inside of his gloves, he tried to get the tremors out of them and was generally unsuccessful. Three points were on his mind as Gamzee slid into formation behind Nepeta.

Point the first: all of the flying sims in the world did not have shit on the fact that he was actually in the cockpit of a space-adjusted suit. They would be doing an atmospheric drop as a group within moments. It was hell on his aurals transitioning out -- the pressure change between the airlock and their transport made them pop. Changing into atmosphere again was only going to be worse.

Point the second: flying was scarier than hell. His gastric sac was in three knots. One hard one locked just behind his pusher, and two more loops pressed against his internal ladders. The shiver-hum of the engines pulsing as they drew in closer to the planet crawled along his neck like lesser insects.

Point the third: no one had actually said what the fuck they were going into.

Everything that they had done to prepare him had accomplished very little in terms of his preparedness. This was not an issue that his teammates seemed to share. Over the comms he could hear Nepeta purring. Roxy murmured to herself, talking through math that he could not wrap his pan around no matter how hard he tried. John and Karkat were arguing but in a way that lacked any flairs of real upset, and Jane was giving the life pusher on the other team some pep talk. The chatter was unrushed, unworried, unfreaking out about being unprepared.

With a twitch, Gamzee refocused on the chat window.  


TC: KiTtY sIs.

TC: YoU gOt EnOuGh PaN tO tAlK tO a BrOtHeR?

AC: :33 < the mighty huntress always has time to discuss things with her favpurrate huntmate.

AC: :33 < she listens attentively.

TC: AnYoNe GoT a ClUe WhAt It Is ThAt We’Re DoInG?

TC: ThInK tHaT wE’rE gOiNg To GeT pUt To SoMe SoRt Of WiCkEd TeSt Of FiTnEsS?

AC: :33 < the huntress believes that the time to stalk sometimes is not always the times that she would choose. but they are those times regardless.

TC: So It’S jUsT tImE tO bE iN iT sO wE’rE iN iT.

TC: AnD tHaT’s ThAt.

TC: SuPpOsE i CaN gEt InTo ThAt. SoMe SoRt Of BuLlShIt SeReNdIpItY oF tImInG.

TC: We FiNaLlY gEt GoOd EnOuGh At SoMeThInG tHaT wE aCtUaLlY gEt To ShOw It OfF. uNiVeRsE bE aSkInG ‘sHoW mE sOmE sHiT’ aNd We GoT tO sTaNd AnD dElIvEr.

TC: BiTcHiN

 

Any further discussion was cut off as everyone’s screens flooded with information and audio cut as neural-relay input took over.

“Team leaders have audio-channel priority. If you see something or you need something, throw it into the group chat. We have staff monitoring.” John’s voice was tight with excitement and an edge of fear. Gamzee knew fear in all of its forms, easy as the lines of his own fronds. “What you go into is unknown. Civilian lives are first priority. There is low population density, but those that do live on this world are of importance. Gamzee, Roxy and Nepeta will be with me, Latula, Mituna, Emma, you’re with Karkat. Omar, Siddon, Tennez, stay outside the west entrance and be available for aid in extraction or apprehension.”

Megido came through after him. “There may be space and time users. If this is the case I, Schrimmer and the Seamstress carapace will intervene. Corrin is with me on defense.”

Jane’s low, warm alto followed Megido’s sharper diction. “Med staff will hold back by the east entrance. Nolan and I will help hold perimeter edge and deal with any damage as it comes up. Ardent Librarian and Mordant Misocapnist, hold back and flank with us. I want eyes on the field and any information coming through channels that are Carapace-specific.”

The dots indicating his squadmates blinked as they signaled their assent.

 

GM: I.don’t.know.why.it.is.that.we’re.holding.back.in.the.first.place!

GM: Shit.

GM:The.longer.we.dangle.up.here.with.our.digits.stuck.in.orifices.the.faster this.is.turning.into.a.shitshow.

 

Siddon Telnia had a lot to prove, and Gamzee was not interested in any of it. He and Karkat shared some of the same grammar markers -- and tendency to be ireful. It was not near as cute on Telnia as it was on Vantas.

“And look at how hard no one asked for your opinion, Telnia,” Karkat barked into the comms. “Nor did they care once you gave it. In fact, you’re wasting another ten to fifteen seconds making me address this. Shut the fuck up and follow orders.”

“Think they’ve got it, Karkat,” John interrupted as Karkat drew a breath to continue. “Just received proximity clearance from the base. Let’s move, people.”

Tenus Minor sat to their port as Gamzee followed John west, yellow and streaked through with true cobalt. The cloud-ocean made up the majority of the visible surface with frozen oceans present beneath and peeking out. Some discoloration indicated the structures that they would land on, the rest of it was a swath of mist.

Their descent was as rapid as it was unsettling.

The old desert world that Gamzee had grown up on was sparse and strong. It had always reminded him of some rangy old naturae, trundling its way through the depths of space. What vegetation grew there was hard and sharp. The water that sat on the surface needed to be filtered to be safe to drink.

Tenus Minor was a different beast. Cold so deep the atmosphere froze right down to the ground, covered all over in water ice miles deep to its salt liquid oceans round the core. Planet had started off being uninhabitable and then some chessfolk had been moved by the whimsy of the Breeze to change that shit, setting up domes and drilling equipment and a will to salt the atmosphere with greenhouse enough to melt that ice. Strange whimsy but Gamzee never did give much bother to figuring out chessfolk nor breath folk neither.

Gamzee found himself in one of the two advance squads, Egbert and his rogue ladies ranged around an airlock on the western side of the complex what had registered the Anomaly. Somewhere on the east side, Karkat and his squad of three worked their lock, while Jane lurked behind him with healers and backup. Northward and upward, sniffing like some sort of bloodhound what can smell weird time shit, Damara and her spacetime bitches overflew the complex, feeling for it overhead to give the advance teams a dome heading.

The chat had narrowed itself down to his squad, which pleased Gamzee no end. Easier to keep track, with only four to chatter.

 

AC: :33 < i would hate living here.

TC: YeAh?

AC: :33 < no sky, there's no where to go. everything is all locked up tight like some sort of prison.

TC: DoN't ThInK iT wOuLd Be ThAt BaD, mAyBe YoU cOuLd GeT yOuR eXpLoRaTiOn On

TC: SeT uP oN aLl Of ThE sPaCeS mOsT hIgH aNd GeT oBsErVaNcE

AC: :33 < i would always know that i was trapped. i will not live like that ever.

TG: waht is it that yyuo two are saying?

TG: liike idunno a bout you all

TG: but air ifs fur sure a big deal 2 me ye?

TG: lettin some1 else control that for me s all bad news

EB: yeah i wouldn't really like it much either?

EB: places where the air is stifled or recycled creep me out

TG: bet they would!!!1!

TG: gibven youre all windy n shiz

TG: wheres ur fav place 2be?

TG: where does ur asspect feel happiest?

EB: lol

EB: dunno. um

EB: plainsworlds are great -- places where the air can move freely and it's all clear.

EB: gonna have to see how i feel when we land. even though the air is not breathable where we are heading it is very alive.

EB: at places where there aren't platforms it's not safe for small craft to navigate.

EB: ~~ exciting ~~

TC: HoNk

TC: ThIs PlAnEt IsN't FuCkInG aRoUnD.

TC: It DiD nOt CoMe To PlAy AnD iT aIn'T eVeN cLoSe To HaViNg ClOtHeS oFf

AC: :33 < is it like that fur you roxy?

AC: :33 < *the huntress ventures to look at her companion*

AC: :33 < are you happy when you are in space?

AC: :33 < or is that just fur space folks?

TG: nah girl like...im pretty zen wherever?

TG: i like open spaces. void lolrite?

TG: places where the possibiyty of something could be but is not yet

TG: always wondered Gamz where is it that you like to be?

TG: rage sounds kind of fukin intense

TC: DuNnO iTs LiKe

TC: WhErE tHiNgS aRe CoMpLiCaTeD

TC: DoN't KnOw ThAt I gOt AnY pArTiCuLaR aFfEcTiOn FoR pLaCeS oR mOmEnTs LiKe

TC: SeEm To GeT tHe PlEaSuRe In My PaN wHeN eVeRyThInG iS wIlDeR tHaN hElL

TC: AnD tHeN iT aLl FoCuSeS - aLl ThE tHoUgHtS, aLl ThE aCtIoNs

TC: It FoCuSeS aNd We ArE aLl At OnE, aNd ThE tHiNg ThAt Is GoNnA hApPeN gEtS iTs OcCuRrEnCe On.

TC: ThAt Is ThE bEsT.

TC: It Is. A fUcKiN.

TC: MiRaClE.

TG: sounds like a prelude to a murder or a mob man

TG: but whatevs you do you man

TC: :0)

AC: :33 < *the huntress leans against the whimsical wanderer* that's his thing.

AC: :33 < he likes to stand in danger

AC: :33 < learned how to do it from me.

AC: :33 < *the huntress flexes her paws.*

  


Passing through the airlock into the domes showed just how fucking weird things had gotten. Vehicles passed through the same intersection in precise intervals, appearing and reappearing in localized time-loops. Pedestrians appeared and disappeared, moving in ways that looked half something out of a day-terror. Foot traffic ought to have shuffled to accommodate armored suits in its midst. Some of the architecture flickered and shimmered, falling down and resetting itself in blips and jerks. One moment the coffee shop to their right stood full and packed in with happy customers. The next moment the glass flew outward in a shining rain, some of it red-flecked with human or chess blood, then snapped and froze mid spread, before flowing backward like time didn’t know which end was up.

“Ah, Damara?” John said into the comms. “We’ve got weird time shit in West Dome 1.”

“Acknowledged.”

John led them further into the dome, flying above structures that sputtered and shook and broke apart and reformed like glitches. Behind them, Damara’s maroon and time-red mech and Corrin’s indigo and mind-green followed through the airlock into the chaos.

Damara's suit passed through a frozen geyser of water erupting from a knocked-over hydrant. As she moved through the space time caught up. Water fell down in a harsh splatter, coloring the concrete beneath. The whole of it had the feel of Time as an aspect. Something old in his pan rejoiced at the thought of it. It felt like companionship and duty. The back of his mouth felt acid-sweet and a shimmer of color sat at the corner of his eyes. Flexing his fingers into the meat of his palms he continued down the way, following Egbert and Roxy through the Time stanked city streets.

They were here to figure out what the fuck was going on with this place, fix it and leave.

Nep was pacing him at the right when she suddenly pulled up, her olive green and heart pink streaked mech turning as if catching a new scent. Gamzee paused to watch, recognizing even through a ton of carefully calibrated mechanized parts the sight of Nepeta on a Hunt.

After a moment, she signaled to the leads that they would break from the group and head down the alley that connected the main street to the smaller one leading to the gardens. John, surprised, gave hesitant permission, belated though it was as Nepeta was already flitting through the flickering shadows, Gamzee a lank limbed hound on her heels.

 

TC: YoU gOt A gOoD fEeLiNg In YoUr PaN?

TC: ThInK wE'rE sUpPoSeD tO bE gEtTiNg OuR gRoUp On OtHeRwIsE

TC: An If We GeT sNaRlEd In A tImE lOoP mEgIdO aIn'T cLoSe

AC: :33 < we won't

AC: :33 < i can tell.

 

He could too.

From the direction that they approached, the rich vegetation of the gardens stretched up toward the sun-globe that had been installed in the dome. The rest of the light Tenus had to offer was diffuse. The boiling clouds covering the surface did not allow for regular sunlight. Far as Gamzee could tell what did come through would not be of much use in growing things. Various barrier-trees blocked out the inner design of the space that Nepeta was heading toward. Pulling up a map showed him what they would be walking through -- several different greenhouses were staggered at various points that the public could access. An engineered creek looped through the complex, serving both as decoration and irrigation for some of the greenhouses. In one of the topographical divots a pond had been built, hosting a collection of lotuses.

The entry-sign to the Senra Botanical Estate Dome flew by Nepeta’s left, sailing between them to embed itself into a wall. Curving her suit under the collapsed archway that had divided the gardens from the public, Nepeta scanned around and shared her screen with Gamzee.

 

AC: :33 < the flux is coming from here.

AC: :33 < got my back?

TC: NeVeR hAd AnYtHiNg WiTh MoRe CeRtAiNtY

 

Pressing through the wide pathways of the estate, the pair of them made quick progress toward the source of all of the anomalous data. Proximity warnings for buildings and other hazards shifted across his displays like the lights of a rave.There had been a big party scene back home, filled with trolls, humans and a miscellany of other aliens with eyes bright as stars and wide as moons.

 

AC: :33 < incoming

 

Nepeta’s message was all of the warning that he had before four unknown suits crowded into the path in front of them. Luckily they were not the fucking huge things that some had custom built for siege campaigns or tricked out from old drilling outfits. That meant they were probably built to common-spec and would have equivalent armor to the suit he was using.

 

TC: YoU gOt EyEs On ThIs GiRl?

TC: TeLl Me YoU kNoW hOw To BrEaK ‘eM.

AC: :33 < i know how to break everything.

AC: :33 < i just n33d a second...

  


The boy that had followed her around back home had been into shit like this -- building and tinkering constantly. He’d been given to following Gamzee too, but Gamzee had no time for shit like that. Dude had a whiff of that idolatry in his demeanor that Karkat had screamed himself hoarse over. No single person ought to follow a brother like that. Even if sometimes he believed himself more than worthy. He could not let himself believe it.

Nepeta tangled with one of the four hostiles, while he plowed into a second trying to get at her back. His blood sang through his head, a war-drum encouraging him to move faster and with more force. None of the team leaders had pinged at them with rules of engagement, so he went to it with the glee for destruction he had felt since time immemorial. Nothing was as good as destruction. The shield-generator on one of the suits failed and he punched the pilot-shield plane in, watching it crack and splinter under the strain and feeling the pilot’s terror flicker and fade before turning vicious and gleeful on another. Nepeta’s fingers hooked into her target’s back, working at a crack in the armor.

 

AC: :33 < don’t kill anyone

TC: AiN’t No OnE sAiD nOtHiNg To ThAt EfFeCt

AC: :33 < vantases will yell

AC: :33 < probably n33d to interrogate them.

AC: :33 < this isn’t what I thought it would be like

AC: :33 < it is r33ally exciting

AC: :33 < thought i might be scar33d

 

Messages slid back and forth between them, easy as breathing. The neural-relays on the suits SOPAC utilized were better than anything he had laid hands on prior to being conscripted. Lazuli mentioned they were a better iteration of old Alternian drop-suits. Harking back to the old empire meant better psi-grouping between active squadrons. Better communication meant better battle outcomes. His sense of where the pilots were in relation to the pair of them flared and thinned as his attention slid everywhere. There had been four. One fucked off, now there were two staying and engaged. The third lay damaged on the lawn and leaking fluids. There was no sign of pilot movement. Maybe Vantases would yell, but he could abide.  It seemed strange when four had been involved initially. Nepeta seemed to share his thoughts on the matter.

 

AC: :33 < all squad, four hostiles in the botanical garden center

AC: :33 < gamz33 and me are engaging three

AC: :33 < the fourth is unaccounted for, we could use some assistance.

TA: M3 4ND 7ULZ 4R3 CLO53 7O 7H3 FRON7

TA: COM1NG 7O YOU NOW

GC: w3’r3 1ncom1ng, h4ng on

TA: W3 W1LL H3LP YOU FUCK 7H3M UP 17’LL 83 L1K3 4 GROUP G4NG84NG

TC: DoN’t CaRe WhAt It’S lIkE

TC: GeT yOuR fUcKiNg HuStLe On.

 

Glancing along the readout planes, the rest of the squadron had gotten bogged down at the edge of the floating platform that the gardens were built on. Given all of the temporal confusion, it might be a few breaths before they got to them. Drop armor was a visually distinct thing, and something about the whole situation dragged at the back of his thoughts. Great swathes of the lawnring that had lay beautiful and inviting prior had been ripped up by the temporal interference and their scuffling. Not many souls were out and getting their wander on. A quick survey of the area showed Prospitian chessfolk skittering between points of cover. There did not seem to be a Dersite population to speak on. The markings on their outfits indicated they were unfortunate staff in the thick of it.  The troll brother streaking across the lawn in ground-eating strides was noteworthy in his presence. Latula seemed to think so too. Her credentials flashed in his periphery, indicating that a fellow friendly had joined his proximity.

 

GC: don’t r34lly c4r3 for the3 look of that on3

GC: do3s not s33m to b3 th3 sort th4t would b3 out for 4 l4t3 stroll through th3 lotus3s

TC: ThInK yOu GoT rIgHtNeSs In ThAt.

TC: FuRySiS i’M rErOuTiNg

AC: :33 < mituna’s got me.

AC: :33 < go

 

Sliding along the path after Latula, the pathways cracked and warped under their feet. Delicately carved foot-paths were not designed to take the weight of combat armor.

 

GC: h1s m1nd 1s w31rd

TC: AiN’t No FeAr.

GC: 1 th1nk th4t m34ns th4t h3 h4s noth1ng to f34r

TC: InClInEd To BeLiEvE hE iS pArT oF tHe SpEcTaClE tHeN

GC: don’t th1nk you’r3 wrong

GC: th3r3 4r3n’t 4 lot of trolls th4t l1v3 on th1s world

 

Such a small detail in the middle of the maelstrom was easy to miss; but, the absence of terror helped to narrow Gamzee’s focus. The mind that butted against his was innoculated against clownish incursions - bolstered by voodoo and harshwhimsy of their own making. The brother held some sort of strifekind in a hand, clutched along the line of his thigh. Flashes of rust-red showed as he ran.

Nepeta threw the suit engaging her onto its side, reaching down and into the joint circuitry of the leg and pulling the drive-motor free. Indigo blood flecked the torn edges. The remaining suit tangled with Mituna, trying to get a shot in at him. The psiionic had the advantage in redirection of pulse-energy. Some of the shots went wild, thrown off trajectory by Mituna’s fields. A corona around the suit shimmered, acting like a living energy-shell. One of the suit’s shots redirected back in a fountain of sparks. The suit stilled.

 

TA: 7H1NK 1’V3 G07 H3R!!

TA: L457 5H07 H17 H3R R16H7 1N 7H3 5W337 5P07 H3H3. C0MP’5 516N4L1N6 7H47 17’5 D34D 1N 7H3 W473R

AC: :33 < it is a little strange

AC: :33 < none of them are moving

AC: :33 < there’s a little blood on the pilot-shielding on the second one i dropped, but i thought it would be from broken glass...

AC: :33 < jane, abe, i n33d you to be here fast please.

AC: :33 < something is going really wrong.

  


Though he and Latula made a go of boxing in the runner, there was no catching him what with their suits making it slow going through the shrubs and trees their prey could slide through like a squeakbeast. Slipping between a hedge growth that bordered a drop to another level of the gardens, the troll disappeared from view. Still willing to stay at the hunt Latula shot ahead of him, sprinting through the grass. Doubling back to Nepeta, Gamzee focused on getting his erratic breathing under control. His claws rattled against his drive-controls and the urge to peel off his flight suit was powerful.

 

AC: :33 < you doing okay?

TC: FuCkInG gOlDeN gIrL, sTrOnG aS a ThIcK hAtChInG sHeLl

TC: YoU uP aNd GoOd YoUrSeLf?

TC: DoN’t NeEd To Go AbOuT gEtTiNg A sHuShInG oN fOr YoU dO i?

AC: :33 < flirt. no i’m fine.

AC: :33 < just very confused, there’s something wrong with the pilots

TA: 3V3RY0N3 15 R34LLY 571LL 1N 7H3R3

TA: 5H17H5 W31RD L0L

 

Other obstructions cleared, the rest of the team funneled in. Crocker and Nolan slid out of their suits, jogging over to the downed combatants. The look on Nolan’s face said everything that Nepeta needed to understand about what had transpired.

“They’re dead aren’t they?” The changeover from text-to-voice was jarring after all of the instant-relay of the conflict. Her voice sounded strange in his ears. Gamzee zoomed in as much as his cameras would allow. Amid the broken windows, various bodies lay cradled. There was no obvious cause of death, other than the one he killed, but the soft press of their minds had disappeared.

“Oh my goooooood.” Karkat groaned over the coms. Gamzee could imagine him scrubbing his face in vigorous displeasure. “There is going to be so much fucking paperwork.”

“Can only imagine how long it will take.” Damara’s voice was a subdued purr. “So glad that you and Egbert deal with this, yes? Yes.” Pausing a moment, she continued. “Nolan, they are dead?”

Their second medic glanced upward, nodding their silent assent. One of their dark hands came up and their warm tenor sounded in the group chat. “Seems like they took a suicide pill. There is some trauma and burns to the oral and nasal cavities. It’s a fast-acting nasty of one sort or another.”

Standing to Nolan’s side, Jane turned and looked up at the suit containing Karkat. “I think it would be best if you got in contact with the local authorities. There is going to be a homicide inquiry. I’m pretty sure that we’re in the clear in this, but it would be best to get the investigation started while everything is fresh. I have no idea where these individuals came from. But Nolan is correct in that their deaths are self-inflicted. All other injuries are superficial or acquired through combat our squad engaged in for self defense.”

“Of course we get the crazies on our first mission with the clown.”  Siddon’s mutter obviously was meant to be heard by everyone. Gamzee was too tired to feel angry. Worse things by far had been said of him by people whose opinion meant a great deal more to him.

“How about you shut the fuck up Telnia?” Karkat buzz-clicked his reply to Siddon, irritation coloring his tone.

“Don’t care about clowns, and don’t care that they are dead. They have things to tell me. You all can start the paperwork mountain now.” Damara exited her suit and stalked purposefully over to the felled suits. Pulling a cigarette from behind her ear, she lit it and let it dangle from the edge of her mouth. “Telnia get down here and help me pull them back.”

“Ugh.” Siddon joined her in the mess of wrecked landscaping. Telnia’s boots sunk into the torn up lawn. Curving their way around the further suit, they stood and watched Damara for a cue as to the next thing expected.

Warmblooded psychics had a different flavor than the rest of their species. Gamzee felt their minds crawling and pressing along his like a physical weight. Rolling his shoulders he felt the pressure of their calling to the recently dead. Shortly something shimmered in front of Damara. It tickled against the sides of his mind like being brushed on the arm by a hair - barely enough to be noticed. Likely the stupid fuck that had tried to take Nepeta out. Damara and Siddon would talk to the ghosts and gather what information they could. All of that noise had very little to do with him. Turning away from the tableau and toward his squad leader he and Nepeta waited for further instruction.

Karkat hit the team-wide button on their channel, broadcasting to his squad in specific. “There’s information on where we’re bunking up for tonight. We’ll probably be grounded until they finish documenting the scene and interviewing witnesses. For right now head back to the address that just uploaded for you. There’ll be some ground-crews to help with the load-in of our suits and then we’ve got a little time until we’re moving again. Go get a shower and eat something. I’ll see you there.”

Karkat turned away from their group, the mutant-red accents on his suit shimmering in the artificial light of the dome. The curving loops of implied manacles had always struck Gamzee as appropriately morbid. It was a sign that he and the Junior Director shared.

“He sounds so different now,” Nepeta’s voice sounded in his suit, channel set to private.  
“Different dude now.” Gamzee swallowed his regret at not having been witness to the change himself and headed toward their new bunking arrangements. Ahead of him, the rest of the squad slipped into the gloaming of the empty streets.

**=== > Kankri**

 

Spittle oozed down the length of Kurloz’s fore-fangs. His eyes gleamed with orange fury and resting psionic potential. The camera that had been trained on him had trouble focusing on the color that dichotomy produced, indigo flickering over orange. The claws that were hooked over the edges of his makeshift pulpit had been groomed to knife-points. The tangle of his hair resembled inhospitable brambles more than the coifeture of a major public figure. The man looked feral.

Separated by sweeps and distance Kankri still felt revulsion and a trickle of fear slide down his back and tighten his throat at the sight of Kurloz Makara.The iteration on the screen was not his original executioner. This footage was estimated to be from three iterations prior. Kurloz had been a street-preacher on Ardezzit 3. Strolling through the streets barefoot he had amassed a suicide cult of several hundred varied individuals. Attempts to bring him into the SOPAC fold had been entirely unsuccessful. It also was one of the few times that Kankri had bowed to both Vriska and Aranea’s pressure to send out a targeted assassination team. That iteration of Leijon and Strider had been on friendly terms with him. He missed them. The photos of Makara’s force-blasted corpse still sat in archival evidence, retrievable under Vriska’s personal codes. If he had to guess the combination he was sure that he would get it right.

Kurloz had always been frighteningly charismatic.  Watching old intelligence feeds of Mirthful sermons before the schism in the cult had occurred made Kankri’s wrists ache with phantom pain. The banding around his wrists always appeared in his sub-adult molt, a sadistic hatchmark and reminder. It happened with such regularity that it was one of the markers that the organization used to identify him, much like the Strider line's strange eyes and the Zahhak marker of absurd physical adroitness.  

Somewhen, long ago before anything else had happened, a small part of him had believed that there was decency hidden even in the barrel-chest of the heretic king. It was his current opinion that his past self had been an idiot. Latula was always the one to tell him that statistics did not lie and that some of the purest truth could be found in numbers. There were only two lifetimes of note that Kurloz Makara had no part in his death. Every other time, he had been present or directly involved in ending Kankri’s life.

“I wonder sometimes if you are sleeping standing up. If you were it would make a great deal of the things that you do make a great deal more sense. And I would worry slightly about your metabolic and other cycles.” Stepping into the room Porrim advanced on him.  

Stepping forward to avoid Porrim’s hands falling on his shoulders, Kankri shrugged. “I have been waiting for protocols to upload. I would argue that it does not require one’s full attention.” A file transfer flashed on his screen, insistent in its cadence. “Looks like we’re getting more information from Tenus. Would you like to do the honors?”

Porrim reached past him and tapped the interface beginning the data transmission. The teams had made good time with the gate to assist. Karkat and Jane had spearheaded the cleanup while part of their team splintered off to deal with other individuals. Video streamed from the body-cams installed on the suits. Makara and Leijon were joined by Captor and Pyrope.

The stillness in the felled suits flicked memories awake. There were elements of this tableau that he had seen before. The question of when he had seen it and what relevance it held to his current life was the trillion caegar one. Catching himself, he shook his head. Caegars had stopped being an accepted currency after the fall of the Empire centuries ago.

“So what do you see?”

“Everything.” Pressing his fingers absently against the view-screens Kankri strolled the feed backward, watching the interplay of suits and the movements of the one troll that had escaped.

“Mostly Prospitian population that I’m seeing. Weird to see a Dersite in the mix. They’re right there.”  Tapping a finger into the feed it paused at Porrim’s touch. Enlarging the section, Kankri could see a black-shelled arm hanging out of one of the suits.

“That is strange.” The answer lingered just out of his reach, shrouded in whatever memories it hid behind. “Not impossible though? There is no official rule saying that the populations should not mix in that section of space. As I remember the queens are still engaged in a long-standing truce.” Lifting his brows with the irony of the statement, he caught Porrim’s expression. She believed in the validity of that just as much as he did.

“I know galactic poli-sci as well as you do, Kankri.” Porrim let a breath out in a long stream of exasperation. “It was in fact one of the things that made me uniquely qualified for this position.” Drumming her claws along the keyboard interface of the display she closed her eyes. “So we have Time distortions showing, I’m seeing an unaffiliated Dersite on a historically Prospitian colony, and one really random indigo who is busting ass out of the frame. Did you see if he has breathing apparatus on? If not he would have had to have help. The air is not safe for anyone other than the carapacian populace there.”

Kankri’s fingers danced through prompts: requesting warrants, coding in for files, and inputting his bona-fides for access to information. Beginning their inquiry into who had come and gone through the various cities of the world would take some time, but he had the routine of it down to an art. “If we find the helper then perhaps we find the connection. I have a feeling that we will not find much of note on the pilots. They are dead, aren’t they?” Suicide and sacrifice wound their way through every one of his lifetimes like the major motifs of a symphony.

Scanning through the reports scrolling along one side of the display Porrim wrinkled her nose. “Ye~ss. I’m not actually going to ask how you knew that. Initial reports are showing there are partial flight plans filed for them with incomplete information. More than slightly suspect.”

“I wonder if we are going to find any gang affiliation with the Dersite citizen,” Kankri mused as he flicked through the junk information. “Midnight Crew, would be my guess.”

Porrim growled at him, irritated to have arrived at an old argument. “Not all black carapaces are even officially affiliated with the kingdom. Some are part of the new monarchy that happened after the Win, and some are loyal to their own worlds.” Crossing her arms under her chest she stared forward in thoughtful intensity. “The video feed isn’t great. That could be a leprechaun that you are looking at.” Kankri looked at the arm dangling slack out of the suit. He was sure the individual was carapacian, and not one of time-ambivalent leprechauns, but it was not worth the argument. “Beyond that,” Porrim continued her statement with force, “the percentage of known Midnight Crew members is so small that it is statistically irrelevant.”

“And yet they tend to show up in the midst of things that are the strangest and most world-breaking.” Kankri sucked his bottom lip between his fangs, pressing into the giving density of it with his teeth. This time he would be careful not to bite hard enough to make himself bleed. Anything that Porrim might have answered to that was lost as the doors swished open. Turning and looking at the Council member, Kankri dipped his head in respect.

“CM Lalonde.”

“Junior Director Vantas.” Rose Lalonde dominated any space that she stepped into. The subtle lavender accents on her clothing had been intertwined with her lover’s colors. Jade buttons glistened at her throat, precious stone as opposed to synthesized material. She never wore the heels that some of the other humans seemed to favor. She stood at a comparable height to him, but he could swear that she was as tall as a true-adult troll.

“Welcome to the Halo.” There was nothing friendly about SOPAC Large Scale Training and Development Base as a title.

“I am then greeted by strange angels if I have stepped into heaven. Perhaps I needed to have rethought my positions on a great deal of my life prior.” The corners of Rose’s eyes turned up in a smile. Kankri mirrored the expression, flashes of Ampora’s planet-fauna flickering through the back of his mind.

“I do not know that we are quite strange enough to qualify as that. As I am sure that you are aware, things are going awry in your system.”

“Just so.” Stepping up to the control panel, Rose slid her eyes perfunctorily through the information laid out before her. “Have you tracked down where the troublemakers originated from? And have you figured out what it is that they were there to take?”

Porrim frowned in the background, left out of the conversation.

“Not yet.” It was good and bad to have another Seer with him. He understood her -- her motivations, what would drive her, what would inspire her, who to pair her with and who to shelter her from. She understood probability. Perhaps between the pair of them they could find the elusive answers to their questions.

“Look in the negative spaces.” Rose stared at the screens like they contained hidden secrets and the force of her regard might bring them to light. She would help him weed through all of the ambiguity of personality and emotion to find the true sequence of events. The analytical nature of light-aspected individuals complimented his ability to bring nuance. 

“Of course.” Kankri frowned. The others were forever underestimating his intelligence, his competence. Another note in the shit-symphony that was the theme of his life. The implication that they would find what they needed in what was missing rather than what had been given to them seemed rather obvious.

“I’ve given you personel file clearance for our sector.” Rose methodically pressed through the files. “Please feel free to browse.”

“One of them ran off with what looked like equipment from the gardens,”  Porrim interjected into the tense silence. Stepping to Kankri’s opposite side and bracketing him between them, she pulled up a still from the suit-cam on Pyrope’s mech. “See?”

“A crowbar.” Rose stated her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Not unusual to have in that setting, but a weird thing to go running with. Do you suppose that he thought he would aggress hand to hand?” Porrim asked.

“I am not sure. But I find that I am doubly curious when coupled with the individual holding it. I’ll see what i can find as well.” Rose turned and glanced between the pair of them. “Have either of you been in contact with Terezi?”

Legislascerator Pyrope was a fearsome if winsome presence. Kankri found her overwhelming and infuriating in equal measures. “I have eyes on all of our active members, but I haven’t checked in with her recently. Is there a concern?”

Rose folded her arms under her chest, tapping her carefully lacquered nails along an elbow. “I haven’t spoken with her recently. I noticed that Vriska managed to make an abrupt plan to leave the Halo before I had a chance to settle in.” Staring at him pointedly, her mouth crooked up in half of a smile. “They do have a propensity to get in trouble together.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Kankri nodded deeply. “That much need not even be said. The Director has a meeting with the Pantheon’s Mistress that has been delegated to myself. Director Serket will be heading out to the Tenus Stardock  to investigate the incident instead of leaving it to to the research teams. Meaning that Porrim and myself will also be heading out shortly as soon as we receive our rendezvous designation. Do we know where Legislascerator Pyrope was last seen?”

“In fact, her last registered travel plans indicated that she would be departing to Tenus Prime and arriving today.” The light of the screen made Rose more luminous than usual, though Kankri idly wondered if that was a side-effect of her aspect. He knew very little of CM Lalonde as she had been prior to the assumption of her title and duties. In considering it he found that he would like to remedy the situation.

“What a serendipitous turn of events.” Kankri knew for a fact that Porrim did not tend toward religious nor magical thinking. Her saying so was pure sass and the small upturning of CM Lalonde’s mouth showed that the statement had hit its mark.

 

**=== > Meenah**

 

Her human had been removed for the time being. Slowly working furroughs into the concrete flooring of their containment space had lost its charm shortly after he left. Knees pulled up to her chest, Meenah watched the movement outside of their cell. It remained sparse and not governed by any sort of schedule that made sense to her. 

Clowns breezed through the passageways, often in groups, often honking, talking, or slamming with one-another. Though there was a good deal of movement through the passageways, there was not a lot of backup for the trolls that dumped the human off. Most of the time they were singular and engaged in making sure they did not dump the broken guppy on his head instead of watching her. Taking them out and getting out then was her best bet, for shoal. 

If she could get one good hit in she could make it as far as the end of the hall. Problem with that lay in not knowing what the fuck was outside. Wouldn’t do her any good to get out and get caught right away and just get thrown back in this cage.

Meenah thought of the big clown in charge, and changed that thought to ‘Getting caught would get her dead.’

Making her way to the small sink, she re-wet the rags that wrapped around her flanks. The break in the operculum was healing, but slowly. If she could get herself underwater, it would heal a lot faster, probably, but that was about as likely to happen as the human sprouting wings and flying away. Breathing was starting to be a bit of a pain in the bass -- a rough tickle sitting in the back of her throat that would not scram, and a rock sitting right next to her spine. When she talked it came out like some sort of furious naturae shit, but that did not make up for the carp of being held against her will. 

In the middle of fighting her damp shirt back over her bandaged ribs, she got a surprise visitor. One of the clowns parading around this hell hole paused outside the bars of her prison. Didn’t say anything, just watched her.  Like a weirdo.

The woman sat on her heels, broad shoulders curved forward in thoughtful interest and face painted in a meticulous style that almost looked like some anatomical diagrams Meenah had seen over some of her classmates shoulders as they worked on boring shit she had no interest in back during schoolfeeding.That all aside the clown was visibly not purple. The arrow-points at the peaks of her horns stated that clear as a full moon. Her irises still held streaks of adolescent grey, which muddied her adult shade to a dappled navy.

“Sup?” Tilting her fins backward along her neck Meenah inclined her head incrementally. 

“Nothing too much. Just observing those that will bring us to fruition. It is not every night that one gets to see the marvels of the world. And- shit.” The cadence of her speech was so true-blue that it almost was funny. The little addition at the end was a perfect garnish, some fried beetles to spice up a five-star meal. 

“Seems a shame that you are not properly attired and painted. Then again whimsy cannot be forced.” Leaning forward, elbows planted on her knees, the blue beamed at her. “Would you like to be?” 

“Painted?” Meenah’s brows furrowed. She bit back an automatic rejection. She did not want to be involved in any of that stupid clown shit, but if she could get this aberrant guppy to let her out, escape might actually be doable. At very least she could get an idea of the layout in this dump, and might even figure out what the fuck was happening. 

The clown positively leered at her, a purr coloring her tone as she said, “Please forgive the pun, but you really do look like a fish out of water though. Something must be done. It is unfunny and that is heretical.” 

“Oh yeah, I bet,” Meenah said. “Shit ain’t funny on my end either, here, chucklefuck.”

Oh, wait, should she be insulting her way out? Eh, too late now. The clown didn’t seem particularly upset, anyways. She simply smiled, mouth full of carnivore fangs. Maybe to a lowblood it’d be intimidating, but Meenah just grinned back, her shark’s teeth gleaming in the half dark of her dank little cell. The two that had been knocked out in that initial scuffle during her kidnapping however long ago were already being replaced, sharper and whiter than the teeth around them.

Eh, what the fuck. “So you want to induct me into your horseshit clown cult? Is that what you’re fishing for here, guppy?”

“If you’re feeling the call of the voodoos and harsh whimsies of the Lord of Double Death, I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” the painted troll replied, never losing her grin. “Ain’t up to me, of course, but the Preacher might be willing to hear you, if you’ve got a good joke.”

“Isn’t me being here enough of a joke?” Meenah snorted, fins flaring. 

“It’s pretty funny, sure, but it isn’t so hilarious a joke as the Thief of Life herself bowing to the Prince and his Lord.” The troll’s fangs flashed as her jaw dropped in another shit eating grin. “Even Himself would find that--”

“Wait, is this all some fucking Pantheon carp?” Meenah interrupted. “Your crazy clown cult is The crazy clown cult? You’re fuckin shitting me.”

The blue blood got that classic huffy look on her face before bringing it back to that lackadaisical mask. “The Pantheon ain’t shit,” she said, straining for unaffected. “There’s only the Lord and his Prince of destruction, bringing him home.”

“Uh huh,” Meenah said, rolling her eyes. “And what’s your claspect? I bet you fuckin figured that carp out before you even molted. Let me guess, Rage or Hope, right? You sorry bastards always go for the shitty doomsday cults.”

The clown slammed her fist into the bars of the cell, making them ring out. “This isn’t a shitty doomsday cult, it’s a gathering of the True Lord’s followers, set to welcome him to his new universe,” she growled. “And while I had thought that the one who heals his consort’s wounds should be one of us, you’re just another heretical fish bitch, worth only to be ground beneath our feet!”

“Bohzho!” another clown called out, down the hall past what Meenah could see. “Stop chatting up the fish and get up topside. Preach says there’s some ghosts you need to round up.”

The new clown shuffled into view, the human slung over his shoulders like a net full of dead fish. Meenah tried to ignore the growl of her stomach at the thought of fish.

“I’m no rust blood, to be dealing in ghosts,” her blue blooded proselytizer huffed. 

“Get that door open for me,” he snapped, and Meenah felt the snarling drag of genuine purple blooded voodoo swiggle through the base of her pan. “And go do your Mind shit to them. Preach says the First Sign has been found, but we lost most of the holy rollers out to get it.” He didn’t even glance at Meenah as Bohzho entered a code into a lock on the wall beside her cell, well beyond her reach. “Preach says they’ve got ghost wranglers, and he needs you to steal them away.”

The door clicked, and the clown kicked it open and stalked in, barely giving the human a care as he slung him down onto the human’s filthy bedding. Meenah didn’t move as he turned and walked back out, now answering the other troll’s questions about the who and what and where.

Now’s your chance, she thought to herself. Now--

The door slammed shut, locking her once again into the cell.

She stood, frozen, until the human lurched upward and over, sprawling out onto the concrete floor, his orange eyes wide and staring unfocused after the vanished clowns. She startled, then scrambled the two steps over to him, crouched and lifted him up to lean his bony shoulder against her.

“Tenus,” he gasped, fingers clawing ineffectually at her arms. “I need -- Zahhak -- I -”

“Hey, hey,” she whispered, trying to get his eyes to focus on her. “Look, I’m glad you’re so lively today, it’s the least dead I’ve ever seen you, but you need to calm down.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, and she could feel now his fluttery pulse and clammy skin. His pale hair was matted with cold sweat, and his breathing was shallow and rapid.

Meenah growled, and reached out, and  _ pushed _ him closer to life. She didn’t have any notion of how or what she was doing, but in her desperation, she reached out for anything that would keep him anchored. 

There was something green, flickering threads of it. This was the first time she could see them so clearly, and she plucked at them, feeling them vibrate against her palms, giving her a faint sensation, a hint of who had shed them, harsh with jokes only they thought funny. She ignored it, though, and pulled them tight with all her might, willing them to stay, wrapping them around the human’s wrists, tying him to her with these imaginary threads.

There was a sharp pop, a smell like salt water and grass. He jerked away from her and she practically shoved him into the floor in startled reaction.

What the hell was that?

She stared down at him, breaths rushing in near perfect unison. The green threads, whatever they were, were gone now, but already his fresh set of bruises were looking faded, and some of that pallor had receded. He looked . . . better.

“This place is making me crazy,” she muttered. “We need to get out of here.”

  
  


 


End file.
